


Thy Kingdom Come

by UninspiredPoet



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Body Worship, Crack, Established Relationship, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Morally Ambiguous Character, Okay Blizz have it your way, Old Gods, Oral Sex, Porn Without Plot, Possession, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Strap-Ons, Sylvia has a wife and her name is Knife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 11:57:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20947964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UninspiredPoet/pseuds/UninspiredPoet
Summary: “You say such beautiful things,” Sylvanas whispered as she allowed the material covering her upper half to fall away. “Keep saying them.”“Do you need to hear them so badly today?” Xal’atath asked as her hands followed the descent of silk along Sylvanas’s chest and down her stomach. “Do you not know them? Unequivocally?”Sylvanas lifted her chin when Xal’atath leaned in for her throat - mouthing along the delicate length of it gently. Even leaving a mark, here and there. “When your thrones run red with betrayal...when the shattered mask hangs above your hearth…”Sylvanas’s eyelids fluttered as Xal’atath traced the lines of tears burned into one of her cheeks with her fingertips without even needing to see them.  “Only then will you know.” She shuddered as cool lips ran up the side of her neck and teeth grazed her jaw. “And it will be too late.”((Disclaimer: My not-for-profit transformative work is only published by me on Archive of Our Own. I do not give my consent or authorization for it to be reproduced or displayed on any third-party websites or apps.))





	Thy Kingdom Come

Sylvanas smirked as she pulled her hood down away from her ears and freed her hair in front of the floor-length mirror in her bedroom. The thrill that ran through her was not her own. The flash through her eyes...was not her own. 

“I look the same today as I did yesterday. As I do every day. When will it stop exciting you?” 

_Most people would find the prospect pleasant._

“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” Sylvanas replied as she began unstrapping her pauldrons and placing them on the stand in the corner of the room. It wasn’t often, these days, that she had the chance to be alone. Or, as alone as she ever was. 

Xal’atath had been with her for so long, now, that she was used to her presence. Usually, it was quiet. A slow, yet steady undercurrent that Sylvanas had long ago begun to feel was both comfortable and familiar. 

_Do you wish to be alone with your thoughts, then?_

Sylvanas hummed in thought as she did away with the rest of her armor and then moved towards the bookshelf that contained precious few volumes. None of which interested her. 

“Perhaps I just wish to be alone with you.” 

Sylvanas felt amusement that belonged to both of them, and the corner of her lips turned up just so. She moved back to the mirror slowly, and Xal’atath’s presence in her mind went still. She didn’t usually undress fully when she wanted to rest. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had. 

Slowly, she unwrapped the last of the bindings that protected her chest and her ribs beneath her armor - watching carefully in the mirror. Allowing the enraptured part of herself that wasn’t at all herself to watch along with her. 

The breeches came next. Slowly. Over the curves of her hips until she was stepping out of them and folding them to place on the dresser. She could have sworn she heard the faintest echo of a whine, or perhaps just the feeling behind one, and she chuckled to herself before finally glancing back up at her reflection. 

“Do you feign your desires?” Sylvanas asked as she stepped closer to the mirror and narrowed her eyes slightly before reaching up to fix some unruly strands of hair that had escaped from behind her ears.

_I do not. Leave it._

Sylvanas’s hand paused. 

_Don’t change a thing. If I had breath, it would be stolen from me as we speak._

Sylvanas lowered her hand, and her eyes fluttered shut for the moment at the genuine pleasure Xal’atath shared with her in response to that action. 

_Join me, dearest one. My tongue misses the taste of your skin._

Sylvanas exhaled a touch more sharply than she might have liked and tilted her head in response to the near-purr this earned her. It wasn’t a call she was in any state to leave unanswered. No, she needed this escape. But Xal’atath knew that. She lived in the darkness that was her mind. She knew everything. There was no point in playing coy. It didn’t become her. 

_Mm, no. It doesn’t, does it?_

Sylvanas sank into the seldom-used softness of her bed. 

_Shut your eyes. Come to me. Make me your kingdom, until such time when I have built you yours. Let my body be your throne to claim, my Queen._

When she closed her eyes, she felt everything fade. Suddenly. Violently. It was an all-consuming sensation. First, the distinct feeling of falling. Of cold. And then, of being caught. The air in the room and around her skin changed. She was wearing something. 

“My Queen deserves only the finest silks to drape her body.” 

With a sharp intake of breath, Sylvanas’s eyes opened. She looked down at herself, first. At the black silk that spilled over her form - parting between her breasts - pants that hung low and loose around her waist. Then, she looked around. At the grand room she now found herself in. The edges of it were lined with licks of shadow-like flames - the hearth alight with fire that she could _feel_ the warmth of. She could _feel_. The fineness of the material she was wearing. The warm, black marble beneath her feet. 

Even as she stood there, the vision became more real, until even the plushness of the bed coverings could be seen on the resplendent piece of furniture across the room. A throne in and of itself. Black wood carved into the shape of trees and coiling leaves and the size of a small room in and of itself. 

“And my Queen deserves to feel my touch on her skin. To feel every nuance of my worship of her.” The voice was here, now. In this room. Just behind her. It came with a cool touch against her bare shoulder. With a strong, lithe body pressing to her back. 

“Oh, but you are exquisite.” Xal’atath parted her lips against the nape of Sylvanas’s neck as she drew her hair away from it. She dipped her tongue just past them to graze it as bumps raised along her arms. 

“Am I too cool?” Xal’atath purred as Sylvanas slowly turned around to meet the dark gaze of the goddess who had brought her here. Who had built this for her. And she was devastating. From the black-as-night hair that spilled down her shoulders to the markings that glowed now and then just beneath her skin. 

“No,” Sylvanas whispered, her tongue darting out so she could wet her lips even as a hand reached out towards the draw of the power that poured off of the woman standing in front of her. 

Xal’atath smiled. A slow, deliberate smile that ended in a flash of fangs almost too sharp to be Elven. She drew Sylvanas’s hand to the curve of her breast and stepped into her touch. “Yours.” She murmured, hovering, now, very close to Sylvanas’s lips. “This power...and this body. Yours.” 

“You say such beautiful things,” Sylvanas whispered as she allowed the material covering her upper half to fall away. “Keep saying them.” 

“Do you need to hear them so badly today?” Xal’atath asked as her hands followed the descent of silk along Sylvanas’s chest and down her stomach. “Do you not know them? Unequivocally?”

Sylvanas lifted her chin when Xal’atath leaned in for her throat - mouthing along the delicate length of it gently. Even leaving a mark, here and there. “When your thrones run red with betrayal...when the shattered mask hangs above your hearth…” 

Sylvanas’s eyelids fluttered as Xal’atath traced the lines of tears burned into one of her cheeks with her fingertips without even needing to see them. “Only then will you know.” She shuddered as cool lips ran up the side of her neck and teeth grazed her jaw. “And it will be too late.” 

Sylvanas gripped her hair with a sudden fierceness that made Xal’atath chuckle. “Yes. Yes, let go. You wear no mask here. Let me see the woman around whose feet this world will crumble. Let me see the woman in whose image I will rebuild it.” 

“You are a dangerous god.” Sylvanas murmured lowly as she pressed closer and caught the small of Xal’atath’s back with her fingertips - digging them in to leave little crescents with her nails. 

“I am whatever you need me to be, beautiful one.” 

“I need you on your knees.” 

“Worship you on my knees?” Xal’atath asked, resting a hand along Sylvanas’s forearm and grasping it tightly. “How appropriate.” 

Sylvanas wasn’t bothered when the room seemed to shift around them. When the bed was suddenly pressing against the back of her legs. She simply lowered herself onto it and watched as Xal’atath sank down with her, with all the grace of her infinite years of being. For a moment, when her mouth was busy working its way back down her neck, Sylvanas heard the whispers. 

They sounded so unlike hisses, here. So unlike the maddening, cursed things she’d heard in the infinite dark at the Citadel. A lifetime ago, now. 

These whispers caressed her skin. Burned into her like cool, gentle embers. These whispers belonged to Xal’atath. Whose tongue was circling her nipple slowly. Whose hand was cradling and kneading her other breast. 

Xal’atath, who was leaving her breathless. Already. Effortlessly. Whose mouth was a cool and soothing contrast to the touches she was burning into her flesh. Gracing every scar with the softest of kisses. Lowering the band of her pants without needing to lift her. 

“Oh, what an altar…” Xal’atath whispered as her hands stroked slowly up the insides of Sylvanas’s legs - parting her thighs and tracing the crooks of them with her thumbs. “I would light every candle. I would raze every city.” Dark, swirling eyes lifted to meet Sylvanas’s, then, as she leaned down to kiss the hollow of her hip when her knees first hit the floor. “I would rewrite every hymn to melody of every scar on your flesh.” 

“Would you?” Sylvanas breathed as Xal’atath caught the sensitive skin beneath her navel between her teeth. 

“They will worship your name.” Xal’atath reassured as she lowered her head. “But none will worship you as I have.”

Sylvanas’s breath hitched as Xal’atath began to remind her why that was. As she drew her tongue slowly along already slick skin and parted it carefully - flicking the tip of it in ways that shouldn’t have been possible but were. With her. 

_There are things that belong only to me._

Sylvanas gathered a fistful of dark hair and drew Xal’atath closer so strongly, she could feel the god’s lips curling into a smile against her. 

The whispers became something different. Something more. They became real, tangible touches along her body. Coiling around her thighs. Snaking through her hair and around her throat. She couldn’t see them, but she didn’t fear them. She craved them. There was no part of her that Xal’atath didn’t touch, though she remained on her knees as Sylvanas had requested of her. 

Eventually, the fingertips tracing along her inner thighs weren’t enough. Sylvanas wanted more. She desperately needed more, even as what was already being given to her threatened to overwhelm her. 

Without any urging, Xal’atath obliged. She wasn’t rough. Nor was she gentle. She was, as they both knew, always what Sylvanas needed. And she needed to feel Xal’atath inside her. She needed the stretch of her fingers and the firm, deep thrusting of her hand. She needed to come undone. Unraveled. And she did. Her entire body shook and shuddered and tensed and she rocked against Xal’atath’s mouth so strongly it was no wonder why she’d not taken a lover other than her all these years. 

She’d have torn them asunder. 

Xal’atath only allowed it all to happen. Encouraged it with feelings and sensations rather than words. Until Sylvanas was finally pulling away and leaning forward with one of her palms pressed into the bed. Xal’atath looked at her from where she knelt, stroking carefully along her thighs as the whispers subsided into nothing and there was just the crackling of the fire in the hearth and Sylvanas’s heavy, rapid breathing. 

She didn’t move until Sylvanas finally lifted her gaze to reveal that it was, if anything, hungrier than it had been before. 

“What is it?” She asked gently as she moved to sit on the bed with Sylvanas, reaching for her face to draw her closer as the tears she’d left in the bedcovers began mending themselves. 

Images flashed through Sylvanas’s mind. Images of Xal’atath’s long, lean body beneath her own. Arching from the bed in utter abandon. 

“Oh...oh, Sylvanas…” Xal’atath stroked over her face. Along the back of her neck. She reached with her other hand to draw one of Sylvanas’s between her legs where she found her more than amply wet. “That’s lovely.” Strangely, Xal’atath, herself, didn’t whisper often. But she did now. Against the corner of Sylvanas’s mouth just before she replaced words with a lingering kiss. “You will never break this body. But you may certainly try.” 

Before Sylvanas could fully comprehend what was happening, she felt those touches again. Whispers of dark magic around her hips that slowly became something solid. Something real. 

By the time Xal’atath was laying on her back for her, the straps of black leather were already in place. Fitted perfectly. Molded to her body. And Xal’atath’s thighs were spread. She was reaching between her own legs to further expose herself, and Sylvanas was gazing at her almost numbly. “Are Old Gods always so visually pleasing?” She asked as she felt Xal’atath’s leg run down the length of her back as she moved closer. 

“Mm, no. No, I don’t believe you would find them at all to your liking. But here I am. And I belong only to you.” 

Sylvanas lifted herself onto her hands and moved easily over the other woman, settling her hips between cool, silky thighs and finding it took little effort to guide the length of the toy attached to the harness into her. But the forward thrust of her hips drew a hiss from Xal’atath’s lips that Sylvanas had never heard before. It was enough to draw her attention sharply to the woman’s face, only to find her eyes half-lidded and a faint smile playing at her lips. 

Xal’atath wrapped her legs slowly around Sylvanas’s lower back - keeping her close as she drew her down so their foreheads were pressed together. “Don’t think for a moment that I don’t take pleasure in you and the things you are capable of. Don’t think for a moment I won’t feel every ounce of aggression that you fantasize about fucking into me.” 

Doubt. The faintest hint. Just a sliver. Just enough of it flashed through Sylvanas’s mind for Xal’atath to pick up on. 

“You forget what I am.” Xal’atath said quietly as she kneaded some of the tension from Sylvana’s shoulders. “Do you know what it does for me to know the things you think? Do you know how intoxicating you are to me? Your strength? Your power?” 

Sylvanas rocked her hips as she exhaled into the crook of Xal’atath’s neck and then reached down to grasp her hips when she felt them roll up into her in response. 

Xal’atath sighed in what Sylvanas could only guess was relief, and her hands fell against the bed. Sylvanas found her wrists quickly with her own - pinning them where they fell. The appreciative murmur this earned her as Xal’atath turned her head enough to brush Sylvanas’s ear with her lips caused a quiet whimper to rise and become caught in her throat, and she stroked softly at her wrists with her thumbs. 

“Do you want me to be still for you?” Xal’atath asked in a murmur that sounded almost breathless. 

“No,” Sylvanas replied firmly. She gradually released her hold on the other woman’s wrists and instead reached for the pillow beneath her head, gathering it in her hands as she gave another experimental thrust of her hips. “I want you to touch me.” Xal’atath’s hands found the broadness of her shoulders and the flex of muscles in her back as Sylvanas brushed the bridge of her nose along her shoulder. 

“You cannot know how exquisite you are.” Xal’atath gasped when Sylvanas finally began moving. “Here beautifully you move, or how it moves me.” 

Sylvanas shuddered deeply and reached down with one of her arms to gather Xal’atath to her - holding her beneath the small of her back as her hips snapped forward and the bed protested at the strength of her movements. 

The marks being left in her back were deep and angry and they burned in the wake of Xal’atath’s nails as she gasped and panted into the woman’s neck where she had buried her face. The cry a particularly deep, quick thrust of her hips earned her was all too real. Like the clenched teeth and almost animalistic, hungry growl that followed it were real. 

“I want it all.” Xal’atath managed as her thighs tensed against Sylvanas’s thighs and she dug her heels into the groaning bed beneath them. “I want all of you. Don’t stop until you’ve given it to me.” 

For a while, Sylvanas lost herself. She lost herself in all that she kept buried in the core of her being. All while Xal’atath cradled her head and stroked along her back and her heaving sides and cried out for her until her voice should have been hoarse, but wasn’t. She didn’t need to come. This would have been enough. More than enough. But she did. In the moments when Sylvanas slowed and rolled her hips in such a way that it provided her with the most sinful friction, she came. Gladly. She lost count of how many times. 

It wasn’t often that Sylvanas could work herself into exhaustion. She rarely got tired, after all. But she could have this here. With someone that could take enough to get her here. To a place where her movements became stilted and shaky and her breathing sounded almost painful. To a moment where Xal’atath was stroking through a barely visible sheen of dampness that had gathered across her back. 

In these moments, when the magic around her hips dissipated and they were just laying there, tangled together, Xal’atath could have undone everything that she was. And she never did. 

What she did do, was carefully move from beneath Sylvanas so that she could lay more comfortably in the cool place she had left for her in the bed. What she did do, was move over her and straddle her hips so that she could stroke along the lengths of her arms and trail kisses along her spine as she knitted together the skin her nails had only just torn moments ago with the very shadow that was still seeping from it. 

“I want the scars,” Sylvanas whispered as she turned her head so she could catch Xal’atath from the corner of her eye before it shut again. “Leave the scars.” 

Xal’atath traced the lines of them, and a pleased smile graced her lips. “You put all other lovers to shame.” 

“Have you had many?” Sylvanas asked. 

Xal’atath chuckled in response. “No. The prospect has bored me for a great deal of my existence. But I have seen everything. The beginning of beginnings. I have seen all ends. There is no one I would rather be consumed by than the fire that is you.”

Sylvanas’s eyes opened. She watched as Xal’atath moved to lay on her side and continue her gentle ministrations to her back. 

“To see you unleashed...unhinged...untethered and with your wings unsheathed from beneath the glass your world has pressed them under...oh, it is a thing of such terrible beauty.” Xal’atath trailed off. Her eyes slipped shut for a moment. She was tired, and yet it was still Sylvanas she was concerned with. “Rest, now…” The darkness of Xal’atath’s eyes returned, and she reached out to run the backs of her curled fingers down Sylvanas’s face. “Dream of our Kingdom. I’ll keep you safe, here.” 

“I am not the only one who needs to rest. How much of yourself do you lose each time you bring me here?” It was Sylvanas’s turn to reach out, then, so that she could cradle Xal’atath’s face in her hand. 

Xal’atath turned her head and pressed the faintest hint of a kiss to her palm before murmuring against it. “Nothing that you don’t return to me. Now rest. Enjoy our time together until that time can be eternal, at last.” 

Sylvanas’s eyes were already slipping shut, and the whispers that had once haunted her every waking moment became her lullaby. Her hymn. Songs of her beauty...of her power...of her scars.


End file.
